


Chains

by Fooeyburr



Series: Chains [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Billford - Freeform, Emotional Manipulation, Human!Bill, M/M, Possession. Not Even Once., Weirdmageddon, also kind of moodswingy!Bill, and by that I mean completely floored!Bill, dark fluff towards the end, drunk!Bill, dubcon, there's smut in every chapter because I'm a smutlord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:56:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5815081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fooeyburr/pseuds/Fooeyburr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill has Ford chained and collared, and is determined to make him submit by exploiting all of the mental shackles holding the man down. Ford reflects on a number of his downfalls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic I've ever written and was heavily influenced by sleep deprivation, Irish coffee and these wonderful sketches invading my Tumblr feed and successfully turning me into Billford trash within seconds: http://46akuma.tumblr.com/post/137823695096/this-is-not-my-fault-my-hand-slipped-and-yeah
> 
> Leave all the love you can to this wonderful artist who forcibly stole my fic-writing virginity while I was under the influence of caffeine and whiskey. (And I enjoyed it way more than I'm willing to admit.)

Ford grunted in disgust on Bill's lips brushing against his own. The unnaturally warm mouth moved across his upper lip, soft and demanding, nipping at it teasingly. He remained still and unresponsive, but could feel a heat of embarrassment spread across his face as he felt Bill's tongue slip through the corner of his mouth, trying to persuade its way past his gritted teeth. He pressed his eyes shut and winced at the sensation of Bill chuckling against his cheek before drawing away from his face.

"Well, this is more fun than I expected", Bill hummed with a smirk, slowly caressing Ford's jawline with his thumb. The volume of his voice was toned down to a lot more moderate volume than usual, but his eye glowed with the same wild insanity as it always did. Ford could feel a gentle yank from his chain. "You should see the look on your face, Sixer! It's priceless. I should've figured this one out earlier." His grin became wider as his leather-clad fingers found their way to Ford's hair, running through them possessively. Ford bit his lip, focusing on not giving Bill the satisfaction of a response; but when the hand suddenly grabbed the back of his hair and bent his head back, a small breath escaped his throat despite his attempt to stop it. The breath then turned into a short gasp as Bill's mouth was on him again, sharp teeth grazing his left collarbone. Holding his breath, Ford struggled to not make a noise, but he still shuddered when Bill's tongue flicked slowly over the magical collar and up the side of his neck, over and over again, until his skin was drenched in saliva.

He breathed heavily through his nose and turned his head from the smug, knowing look in Bill's eyes when the demon pulled away, hands fiddling with the collar's glowing chain. "Come on now, old friend", the voice hissed. "There's no need to pretend, I've seen everything. Admit it, you wanted this. Badly. I even handpicked this form out of the mushy dreams of your own former self, you twisted old freakshow." Ford gulped, and the demon bursted into a mocking laughter. "Back in the day, I thought your silly little romance for me was both stupid _and_ hilarious! Humans", Bill snorted, flashing an amused grin. Then his tone softened again. "Oh, but who knew it would get this much of a..." lips pressing on Ford's ear, chuckling quietly, "...rise out of you." Ford tensed at the feeling of Bill's hands slowly brushing down his sides, fingers sliding under his sweater, tracing the shape of his spine, caressing his lower back, following the trails of cold sweat down to his waistline. Even though he was looking away, he could feel Bill's hungry eyes on him, devouring him at every small involuntary movement he made under the shifting leather.

Ford's already heavy breathing suddenly quickened to shallow gasps as Bill started to kneel down. His heart pounded at an exhausting pace, echoing in every part of his body along with the sensation of Bill's hot breaths seeping through his sweater, traveling lower every dragging second. Desperately trying to keep himself together, Ford gritted his teeth and clenched his fists that were chained behind his back. Then he heard a soft sound of teeth clicking against metal, and his mind went completely blank; Bill was unbuttoning his trousers with his mouth, slowly and carefully, and the blond wisps of hair brushing against his bare stomach forced an audible whine to escape Ford's quivering mouth.

"Boy, aren't _you_ enjoying this." He could barely register the voice growling softly against his hips. "You're a riot, still trying to fight it with all your might. Oh well, but that's exactly what makes this so enticing. It's funny, really", Bill continued, his tone sharpening a little with a tint of teasiness. "There are so many ways I could break you, and this is what I ended up going with? It's ridiculous. I mean, I can always go for a little roughhousing if it pays off with the agonized screams of my enemies, but this level of physicality just isn't very me, you know. So you might wanna ask, why go through all this trouble?" Ford let out a breath that sounded almost pained when hands traveled down the sides of his legs, then slowly up again. "It's because you're _weak_. You're far above the rest of your kind in terms of intelligence - hell, you're even match for me from time to time - but when it comes to physical intimacy... Even on meatbag standards, you're just _soooo._ " Bill's low voice trembled with sneer. "Incredibly. _Weak_. And I must say, IQ, weakness suits you even more than a mangled face suits most mortal beings, and that's saying a lot."

Ford felt tears of humiliation prickle in the corners of his eyes. This was sickening, bizarre, and wrong, and he did not want this. And yet, Bill was right. His mind struggled, but his body hadn't been touched in decades, and the sparks of heat flowing through every inch of his skin filled his consciousness like tormenting needles, leaving him yearning for more.

There was an excruciating moment of silence, his own shivery panting being the only sound filling the room. Bill's hands wandering over his hips came to a halt, fingers curling around his trousers' waist; all of a sudden, Ford could feel Bill's hot, wet tongue press against the front of the fabric, and couldn't hold back a suppressed moan as his back arched against the wall he was chained to. He could feel the lips curve into an elated grin.

"Hear that? You're mine, and your body already knows it." Teeth grazing gently at the same spot made Ford gasp for air as his legs wobbled and gave out under him. He would've dropped on the floor if Bill wasn't holding him up by the waist. "That's enough confirmation for me... For now." He let Ford carefully down and patted the shaken man lightly on the cheek before standing up.

"This was a good start", he said with a smirk. "Catch you later, old pal." And he left.


	2. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this happened! What was born as a simple, plot-free oneshot that mainly served as my leap of faith into the world of writing fanfiction/smut has now evolved into a short story with an actual structure. I had too many vivid images of how things would proceed, especially in terms of Ford's psyche, and yet another caffeine-induced sleepless night gave birth to what then turned into the considerably longer second chapter. And good lord, was it fun to write! That drunk Bill! He actually turned a lot more in-character along with this chapter than I intended, which is a good thing, of course. Also I have this whole thematic chapters thing going on now, which I'm very proud of. More of that when the next and final chapter comes out. Oh and it gets pretty dark in the undertones. But enough babbling, go read the smut, kids!
> 
> (Oh, and by the way, I made some additions and improvements to the first chapter as well, so please check out the new version if you haven't already. ^^)

It took what felt like several hours before Stanford's pulse had settled down close to normal, and even longer for him to process what had just happened. He tried to calm down, but the chain's weight and the collar's metallic pressure against his neck were active reminders of his helpless position. Afterimages of leather and weightless lips crawled continuously on his skin, and he shuddered violently at the reckless thoughts he desperately tried to keep out of his imagination. Thoughts of just how far he could've let Bill take him.  
  
No. He could not let his mind wander any further, he repeated to himself firmly. Even if - or when - Bill came back, he must not let it go further.

Trying to focus on anything that'd distract him from what might still be ahead, he stared bleakly into the fireplace before him, and his thoughts soon shifted to his family. Anxiety took over him as he visioned the terror in the children's eyes being forced to watch their town engulfed in flames, being torn to bits. He thought of Gravity Falls and all that had happened while he was gone; his brother's thirty years' worth of relentless effort to bring him back, and the despair he must be feeling now that he'd finally managed to reunite with his twin only to be torn apart again, along with the ruin of everything he'd ever cared about.  
  
The thought made Ford's stomach churn with guilt. He knew how much self-loathing and sense of worthlessness his brother held beneath his hard shell. Stanley would surely blame himself for bringing about the apocalypse, when in fact, it was all because of his... Ford gulped as he was overpowered by the memories of his first encounters with Bill Cipher, how his perilous interest in the all-knowing demon has gradually turned into an obsession. He could vividly remember the sheer intoxication from the words of praise whispered into his ear, the constant longing for Bill's undivided attention, being possessed...

The images of the night he had first envisioned the form Bill had now taken brought back the earlier events he'd been trying to block out, and he felt his face heat up as the sensations once again flooded over him, covering him with cold sweat, shame, guilt, and phantoms of something else he didn't want to think about.  
  
His inner struggle was interrupted by a loud slam echoing from the hall just outside the door that almost made him jump out of his skin. His pulse sped up when he heard light footsteps approaching, accompanied by the obnoxiously loud voice he knew all too well. There was something off about it, though. It appeared to be either singing or humming, but there wasn't much of a melody nor lyrics that one could make proper sense of, and the footsteps were uneven and occasionally cut off by muffled thumps. Ford frowned; there was something familiar about this. His doubts received confirmation when the door crashed open and Bill stumbled face first onto the floor, spilling the contents of the cocktail glass he was carrying all over the carpet.  
  
"Heeey _Fooordsyyy_!" he cooed loudly, turning over with a frantic movement, and let out an ear-piercing cackle. "Guess who's baaaack!"  
  
Good God. Despite the small jolt of panic the demon's arrival had caused in the back of his mind, Ford couldn't help but grimace.  
  
Bill was completely wasted.  
  
Still laughing like a madman, Bill rolled on the floor, trying to reach for the glass he'd dropped in an almost underliningly drunken manner. As soon as he managed to sit up with the glass properly in his grasp (which took him a considerably long while), it filled itself back to the brim with some kind of poisonous-looking beverage. Without further delay, Bill downed the drink with one go, after which he proceeded to fall back on the floor, letting out a long, pleased groan that made Ford's stomach turn in more ways than one.  
  
He twitched uncomfortably, and the faint clinking sound his chain made against the floor finally drew Bill's attention to him. Still sprawled on the floor, the drunk demon turned his head in a slightly weird angle until their eyes met, but it still took him a moment to actually focus his gaze on the chained man. Ford felt compelled to both stare back and look away when Bill beamed at him, his visible eye gleaming and face looking childlishly brisk with an alcohol-induced blush.  
  
"Hey there, IQ", he slurred in a honey-dripping voice that was probably meant to be flirty. "Missed me? Admit it... You missed me." Putting together sentences that consisted of more than two words seemed to be extremely arduous for him. Making another throaty noise that made Ford's breath stifle for a second, Bill rolled over onto his stomach and started clambering... no, just crawling towards his captive.  
  
Ford backed against the wall, not sure what to make of this situation. Bill's obviously limited functionality at the moment demonstrated by him constantly falling on his face, as well as the muffled guttural sounds that followed ("wait - wait I got this - I GOT THIS, dammit"), made the situation a lot less threatening that what it would normally be. On the other hand, Ford had seen Bill under the influence once in the past, and that incident was what had originally triggered the more physical facets of his obsession. Bill, when intoxicated, tended to be very... handsy, in ways that could only be described as bizarre. With how things had proceeded earlier still vividly on his mind, seeing the drunk demon's absent yet wild grin made Ford feel nothing short of cornered.  
  
In his current state, it took plenty of time for Bill to actually reach him. He seemed to get constantly distracted from where he was going, and at one point he suddenly turned back to fetch the cocktail glass he'd left lying around. After a couple of more face contacts with the carpet and frantic fits of laughter he finally managed to cramble back to his feet and wobble to where Ford was chained to the wall. The demon threw himself unrefinedly right next to him.  
  
"Hey, you", he purred again with a wide smile, edging himself closer and tangling his legs together with Ford's in an intrusive manner. Ford tensed and tried to move away, but there wasn't much space left to use. "Sooo... How you holding up, hm? What's going on -" he patted his head so roughly that it almost came down as hitting - "in _here_? I'd say a lot! Am I right or am I right, Fordsy?"  
  
Snarling under his breath, Ford turned his head away from the gleeful smile and the sickeningly sweet smell of mixed alcohol, but in mere seconds leathered fingers jerked it back to lock his eyes with Bill's. "Come _oooon_ ", the latter gnarled, dipping forward and nuzzling his face impatiently against his neck. "Stop being such a bore." Ford found his pulse picking up its speed again as Bill's breaths condensed into a feeling of sticky warmth on his skin. A low, content noise just below his ear sent small shivers traveling down his spine.  
  
"Hmmh", Bill stammered drunkenly, "you smell like... birthday cakes. I wanna... Let's... I wanna steal your left foot and... mh... turn it into a, a giant turtle made of... teeth." Great. He made even less sense than normal. Ford huffed through his nose in frustration as Bill's fingertips drummed his jaw in a way that was probably meant to be affectionate, but in reality was just increasingly irritating.

"You know, Sixer... for a freaky old nerd, you're awfully handsome. I should maybe... make a statue out of you or something. No no, wait... I already did that, didn't I? Haha!" He bursted into bizarre, high-pitched giggling. Then he quieted down for a while, keeping his bleary eyes locked with Ford's that were reflecting every kind of discomfort one could imagine.  
  
Ford shuddered when a leathered index finger was suddenly raised to trace the shape of his lips. "You don't look too happy, old friend", Bill's voice muttered softly in his ear, now sounding considerably more sober than just moments ago. "What is _with_ you? I've claimed this town as ours. The whole world could be ours, you know. You should be getting drunk with power by now." The demon smirked. "Now there's an idea. You should be getting drunk!" The fingers lowered to grasp his chin, and a glass was held and tilted to his mouth. "Drink up, Sixer, it's good for ya. Come on, for old times' sake."  
  
Struggling to release his face from Bill's grip in vain, he sealed his lips tightly together, muffling a groan when he was forced to inhale the strange drink's pungently cloying smell that made his eyes sting. The liquid seemed to almost burn his skin as it dripped down his chin and seeped under the collar around his neck, continuing its way lower. He glared furiously at Bill, who looked as though he was having trouble deciding whether to be more displeased or amused.  
  
"Forget it, Bill", he spat out, his body shaking with both anger and fear. "I will not join you, not now, not ever. You won't be able to break my resistance."  
  
The demon's eye lit up, which was not the response Ford was hoping for. "Aw, Stanford!" he squeaked and ruffled his captive's hair lovingly. "You're finally talking to me! It's about time, I was getting a bit worried there! Was giving me silent treatment also a part of your _resistance_? That's adorable!" There was another fit of odd, almost childish giggles. And then, with a smirk, Bill gripped his hair with both hands and slowly leaned forward, and suddenly Ford wished he had never opened his mouth in the first place.  
  
His whole body jolted violently at Bill's lips touching, no, biting into his skin as the the demon licked off the drops of mixed alcohol trickling down his neck. The keen, hungry movements of his mouth made Ford gasp for air loudly while his fingers curled against the floor, searching for anything to grip on. Letting his satisfaction with Ford's reaction be heard in a quiet, breathy sound escaping his throat, Bill carefully trailed his tongue over the man's jaw up to the corner of his mouth, making sure that not a trace of the spilled drink was left over his face or lips. He drew away to look at Ford, whom his sudden initiative had left visibly trembling and breathing in sharp huffs.  
  
There was an almost gentle look in Bill's sharpened eyes when his hands wandered down to toy with the hem of Ford's sweater before dragging it up slowly. "Sorry for taking you by surprise, Sixer", he chuckled at what he apparently considered a pun, lowering his head, "but I've already broken what little resistance you've ever had. Besides, I'm not the kind of a guy who'd just let perfectly good alcohol go to waste." Ford couldn't control his panicky whimpers at the feeling of Bill's mouth traveling up his abdomen and chest that were gradually exposed from under the cloth, the almost weightless tip of his tongue searching for the stray drops of alcohol that had managed to slip past the collar.  
  
"I mean, do you have any idea how hard this stuff is to find, anyway? And don't even get me started on the black market prices! We're talking hundreds of endlessly hollering humanoid heads a bottle here", he chatted nonchalantly as he finally pulled away from the now half-stripped upper body of the heavily panting man. He was starting to sound a bit tipsy again as he added: "I'll have you know that'd take you, my mortal friend, more than a few eternities working your ass off in paradox trafficking. Well, mortal as of yet, anyway." He winked cheerfully with his single visible eye.  
  
"Just stop this", Ford whispered between his uneven breaths. "Please, Bill... stop this." Having to demean himself to plead was extremely humiliating, but the thought of what would happen if this went on frightened him even more.  
  
At least his words seemed to grasp Bill's attention. For a moment, the demon just eyed him intensely with a strange expression that Ford was unable to decipher. Then he actually let the sweater's hem down and drew his hands away, shifting a little further from Ford, who felt like he couldn't even remember what it was like to have his personal space back to himself.  
  
Still watching him, Bill tilted his head curiously. "Stop...?" he repeated. Something in his tone of voice gave Ford a bad feeling. Once again, he began to wish he'd just kept his mouth shut instead of resorting to pleas. His breath stifled when he saw Bill's hand approaching, slipping under his arm as it reached behind his back, gently gripping the chain that hung loose between his neck and the wall. The ominously gentle look in his eye made Ford freeze completely. Sliding his fingers slowly up and down the chain, Bill rose to his knees and leaned in for an almost weightless kiss. Ford felt his face flush again, and when their lips parted, a barely audible whisper reached his ears:  
  
"We'll see."  
  
And then, without a warning, Ford was jerked backwards by his chain so violently that it made him fall over with a muffled scream; his arms jolted up as if dragged by force, making him wince from a jolt of pain and a choking pressure against his neck when he tried to fight it.

Opening his eyes, he shook in horror upon realizing that he was now in a different room, chained to the headboard of a large bed. One end of the chain was connected to his collar and the other to the handcuffs, and every time he tried to move his arms or shoulders that were locked into an unnatural position, the collar would choke him. There was little to no room for struggle. Gasping for breath so quickly that he was almost hyperventilating, Ford could see Bill floating upside down into his field of vision from behind the headboard. He made a playful somerset in the air and left hovering above the bed now upwards, looking down at his helplessly shaking captive.  
  
"Let's go over a couple of things real quick, Sixer", the demon announced, his expression turning from slightly curious to a bold and exultant grin. Any signs of his previous intoxication had vanished completely by now. His hands reached to graze Ford's hair, making the man shudder as he hovered closer and spoke softly. "First of all, you're mine, and I'm never letting you go. You'll be stuck with me for all eternity. You know this already, don't you? You... are... mine." An index finger traced the shape of a triangle over Ford's lips, each stroke emphasizing his words. Ford quivered.  
  
"Second, you can't undo what has already been done. Your reality won't turn back to the way it was before you and I first met, before you were hurled into my realm, or before I unleashed the apocalypse upon this town. The world as you know it is gone, and it will never be the same again. There is no escape from the things you've seen, learned... or felt."

The fingers had drifted down Ford's lips and were now caressing his neck; he gulped, and Bill's satisfied smile became wider at the feeling of his Adam's apple moving under the leather-clad hand. "All of the needy little thoughts that have been running through your head during our time together will be there for the rest of your life... Well, except if you happen to have invented a memory eraser", he cackled mockingly, "and we all saw what became of that nut." His smile melted back into a pleasant one. "So you see, Fordsy, these sensations -" The man under him inhaled sharply at the warm, wet friction between soft lips and skin, "- will never go away. They burn into your skin, they torment you and consume you and become a part of you. I may be the one calling the shots here, but this -" his hands traveled quickly down the length of his whole body, fingertips sliding on his inner thighs - "- is all you."  
  
The tension in Ford's throat uncoiled as his gasps merged with a faint moan; he squirmed, struggling not to push into the contact that was so light he barely even felt it. It was torturous, it drove him even more to the edge, and yet he longed to, he needed to -  
  
"Now then", Bill muttered, "that earlier request of yours..." with an excited smirk, he moved so close that his hips were merely inches above Ford's, effectively locking the quietly groaning man into a frozen state of desperation. He brushed at the sides of the man's sweater gently, and with a flicker of blue flames, Ford felt the piece of clothing fall apart by its seams. Shivers of fear and anticipation ran all over his bared chest when he felt Bill's mouth verging on his hot, sweat-drenched skin. "What was it now?"  
  
"St.. Stop this", Ford breathed, his voice so strained that it sounded foreign to his own ears. He wasn't entirely sure if he even meant his words by now.  
  
Suppressing his urge to move became almost unbearable when Bill pressed his lips on him, starting with weightless kisses just below the collar and gradually advancing lower, his mouth's movements deepening, becoming slow and hungry. For a moment, it stopped. "Say it again."  
  
" _St_.. _op_..." He no longer knew why he was even asking that. He couldn't remember why he'd been so inclined to resist in the first place. "Please..."  
  
His stomach jolted when Bill dragged his tongue around his navel and tardily continued all the way down to his waist, humming through the kisses in a low, teasing tone. The demon's teeth lightly gnawed the waistband of his underwear, making Ford's heart pound against his ribcage so hard that it was painful, before he straightened up; chuckling at what was left of the man's earlier defiance, he slid his hands under his arms and leaned on his elbows, nose brushing against the clenched jaw. "Third time's the charm, Stanford", he muttered, slightly out of breath from excitement. "Once more."  
  
Another set of helpless noises escaped Ford's throat. That sense of helplessness was now the only thing left to keep him in his right mind, so he clutched onto it, the tip of his tongue shaping out the word that was expected of him. His mind went suddenly numb as he slowly became aware of how close Bill was; the demon's foot was brushing against the side of his leg seductively, and his hips were edging what must've been less than an inch above his own that were locked against the bed in a painfully convulsed manner. He was too close, so close Ford felt overpowered by the inhuman heat radiating from his body, there was barely any space left to separate them from contact, how easy, how effortless it would be to just -  
  
Groaning through gritted teeth, Ford threw his head to the side and breathed heavily through his nose. He couldn't say it. If he opened his mouth now, he would find himself begging for the exact opposite of what he was supposed to say.  
  
Bill watched his silent struggle with an amused expression. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that", he hummed. "Do you wish for me to stop... or not?"  
  
And then everything inside Ford went deranged when Bill's last words were followed by a slow, demanding motion rolling gently over his hips. His chains tightened and tore at his wrists as he threw his head back violently, unable to restrain his moans, his entire body being flooded with shivers of maddening pleasure and arching against the contact that was already gone. He wanted to scream, beg, submit, anything to make it continue, _anything_ for the sensation to take over him again, intoxicate him, fill his mind with all that was Bill Cipher and ravage him and tear him apart over and over and over again, until...  
  
But Bill had already drawn back, hanging idly in the air above him with a quirky, satisfied smile on his lips. A cold wave of disappointment crashed on Ford when he saw the demon reaching for the chain. "Bill", he gasped, pleadingly. "Bill..."  
  
He knew from the look in Bill's eye that it was no use. With a jerk, he fell backwards and felt the bed underneath him disappear. The strain on his arms loosened, his back was hit roughly by a stony surface, and he opened his eyes to find himself chained to the familiar wall, fully clothed again. The fireplace crackled cozily as if he'd never left the room, and none of what just happened had been real. The leathered fingers smoothing his disheveled hair, however, proved otherwise.  
  
Bill dropped on his knees beside him, grabbing his hair and jaw forcefully, and held his lips just above Ford's still panting mouth. He stayed in that position for a while, eye glowing with an unreadable emotion resembling greed as it bit into his captive's desperate gaze. Then he let go of the man and, with a small smile, straightened up and stretched.  
  
"Whew, I could use a smoke right now", he muttered, fingertips playing with Ford's hair one last time before he picked up his cocktail glass and walked away, leaving Ford collapsed against the wall, feeling painfully aroused, mortified to the bone, and hollow.


	3. Detachment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry for the wait! Here it is, the final chapter. There's a small epilogue coming up within an hour, I'll put the end notes there. Enjoy!

Everything was quiet and calm, and Ford was growing tired.

He didn't know how long he had been crumbled in the same position against the wall, but it was long enough to have convinced him that he was never getting out of this room. Everything else felt so far away, almost to the point of nonexistence: he could remember the visions of the apocalypse, Gravity Falls being devoured by flames, chaos, lost lives and desperation everywhere, but as they played on repeat inside his head, they seemed to grow increasingly dull and monotonous as if they were clipped from an old film. He couldn't tell if the havoc was still ongoing or if it was already over, and all that remained was dust. He had no way of telling if his family was still out there looking for him, or if they had given up, left... Or maybe they hadn't survived, maybe so much time had passed that they were all long gone. The first times this thought had floated in Ford's head, it had filled him with cold, agonizing terror, but by now he had lived through it so many times that all he could feel was emptiness and resignation.

The one thing he could clutch onto outside this room, however, was the thought of Bill. Bill's return was the only thing he could be absolutely sure of. His certainty was so strong that he practically felt the demon's phantom presence even now, and the faint anticipation mixed with dread kept his heart beating and his brain functional, his lungs breathing slowly in and out. 

Last time, he had been in terrified denial of the thought of Bill coming back, praying he'd never have to see the demon's face again. Now it kept him from succumbing to the hopeless thought that everything outside the room - perhaps even the room, himself, this very moment - was just delusional imagery of his gradually tiring mind.

He was just so... _so_ tired.

Outside of the wait, he barely had any sense of time left. The distant memories of his childhood now felt like a flicker compared to the time he'd spent here; the days reunited with his family were merely a passing thought, perhaps a dream, fantasy that was never even real in the first place. His entire life as he now saw it was all that bound him to Bill Cipher. Meeting Bill had redefined his whole existence, his past, present and future. 

There was, is and will be no Stanford Pines without Bill. 

In a strange way, it all seemed to add up. The jagged relationship with his brother and only friend, the loneliness and alienation, the seemingly endless struggle for recognition and acceptance throughout his childhood and youth - in the end it was all taken in and reshaped into yet another piece in the puzzle that was his connection with Bill. Bill, Bill... Bill... _Bill_.

Every now and then, the name escaped his lips in almost feverish whispers. Hearing his own voice would always startle him a bit, but at the same time it was oddly calming. It kept him sane. At times he would try to speak out, form sentences, reassure himself that he still hadn't completely lost his touch with reality, but every time he attempted to shape the words, he was hit with a surge of doubt. What if the words that came out of his mouth meant nothing after all? What if speaking them out only made it clear to him that his grasp of reality was indeed gone? What good would it do if there was no one there to respond and give him the assurance he needed? He gave up, feeling detached from everything and endlessly, unbearably tired.

He was no longer sure of anything... except for Bill. In haunting silence, he kept repeating the demon's name under his breath, clinging onto the only comfort his shattered mind would allow him.

With his last grip on this reality slowly slipping away, Ford's thoughts began to wander in the thirty years he had spent on the other side of the portal. Thirty long years lost in the creases of interdimensional timespace... No, that was incorrect. During that time, which, he suddenly realized, made up for almost a half of his whole life, he had never felt 'lost'. Strangely enough, even though being hurled into the portal had been nothing but an accident, it had also been one of the few things in his life that didn't feel like an unfortunate coincidence, cruel mock of fate or forced acquiescence. He'd never felt out of place, despite his situation having been quite literally that. In the multiverse, there was no such thing as an outcast or a freak - or rather, those were attributes all interdimensional travelers had shared. During those thirty years, Ford had made plenty of friends and companions, likeminded in their common interest and search for anomalies. Amidst his somewhat adventurous quests and expeditions, he had also managed to settle down from time to time, find a place to call home and a peace of mind for as long as he deemed necessary, before setting off again as he pleased. Thinking back on it, his years trapped in the multiverse had been quite gratifying.

Aside from the initial shock and confusion that had followed the portal incident, Ford never actively sought a way back to his home dimension. What did he feel when he was dragged back by his brother? He'd been abruptly snatched from the life he'd led for thirty years, the life he'd enjoyed, felt truly adequate and comfortable with. Stanley's words from the night after his return lingered in the back of his mind.

" _I spent thirty years to pull you back from that hellhole, and you punch me as a reward? And now you refuse to thank me? After all the sacrifices I made? I can't believe you, Poindexter._ "

Ford grimaced slightly. It had hurt. Stanley's anger was justified and knowing it hurt him, and yet... Right up to this point he had refused to admit it, but more than remorse or gratitude, he had felt disappointment. True enough, he held a great deal of appreciation for everything Stanley had done for him, but he was still bothered by a hunch that Stanley's mission had mainly served for his own redemption. Ford's side, however, that blockhead of a brother just wouldn't ever understand, nor even attempt to do so. A let-down dimension, a let-down brother... A wave of guilt overcame him upon his selfish thoughts, and suddenly he felt dead tired again.

Insufficient. That was all he was ever going to be in the eyes of his family. Everything Ford considered truly important and remarkable about himself, everything he'd achieved - to them, it would always be meaningless, because they'd never witnessed him as his very best, when he was the most comfortable and confident with himself. They would never know the real Stanford Pines, and even if they did, they probably wouldn't think much of it. Stanley, at the very least, had made his opinion quite clear by calling the most satisfying time of his life a "hellhole".

Nothing has changed. And with the portal destroyed, he'd be stuck in this place forever.

...Huh. He had almost forgotten about the apocalypse and his own confinement. Ford wanted to chuckle at the sheer irony of the situation, but there was not enough energy left in his body to even curve his lips. He was so weak, so tired... _so tired_. 

Why was he even fighting it? Why not just... sleep?

Ford finally gave in. A wave of dull relief surged over him as soon as he let his chin drop and his body fall completely limp against the stone wall. There was no reason to struggle... No reason to fight back. Just... let it all... go.

As apathy and fatigue took over him, pressing his eyes gently shut and lulling him to a deep sleep, the last traces of his consciousness lingered on the only thing he had longed for during his years in the multiverse. That inhuman warmth.

\--

When Ford slowly woke up from his slumber, he was wrapped up in a feeling he thought he'd forgotten completely: he was relaxed, warm, and oddly peaceful. He could vaguely sense the anxiety and hesitance looming in the corner of his mind, but he couldn't let it in yet. Not just yet. Keeping his eyes closed, he let out a quiet sigh, trying to sink as deep into the calmness as he could, hoping it would never fade.

His undisturbed state of mind didn't last long, however, as he slowly became aware of his changed position as well as the mellow softness surrounding him. He was lying back on a large... armchair? And, he then noticed, his wrists were no longer cuffed behind his back, and were instead resting idly on the chair's armrests. He could still feel slight stinging on the chafed skin, just enough to make him frown slightly in his still half-asleep state. He still insisted on keeping his eyes closed, but couldn't stop the familiar discomfort creeping into his mind as he remembered how the small scratches on his wrists had come to be. He shivered as it all came back, the sheets underneath his skin, his own moans ringing in his ears, the warmth pressing against him, the warmth, the warmth -

Ford gasped violently and his eyes flew open.

He was still in the same room, but this time seated in a puffy armchair in front of the fireplace. Although his hands were now free, the collar was still there, it's chain wiggling over the backrest and adding barely noticeable pressure on his throat. He could barely register his new position, however, before his eyes froze on the similar armchair that was facing his from the other side of a small coffee table between them. Ford felt a strange feeling spread from his stomach to all over his body, a mixture of cold and heat, as he took in the sight of the oddly ethereal human figure sitting there with his legs crossed gracefully, floating an inch or two above the spongy chair, a vague smile rippling on his lips.

"Bill", Ford whispered, his fingers curling on the chair's smooth fabric. His pulse sped up at the mere sight of the demon. For a fleeting second, he felt overwhelmed by Bill's presence. This was it. For how long had he been waiting for this, clinging to the thought of this moment as if his whole existence depended on it...

But now that the wait was over, he suddenly felt... void.

Hit by a sudden pang of hollow uncertainty, he avoided Bill's observant gaze by letting his eyes drop carelessly to the demon's lap. As they did, his attention was caught by a distinguished teacup that was sitting on his hands. He watched with surprise as the pot of the same set floated into his vision with a blue glow and filled the empty cup that had appeared beside it, which in turn traveled through the air to the chained man. Not knowing what else to do, Ford cautiously reached out and took the cup to his hands. Seeing the ocular pattern and feeling the familiar heated porcelain against his palms were enough to ignite sparks of nostalgia within him, but when the faint scent of the tea reached his nose, he couldn't help but shiver.

"This..." he muttered quietly. "...this is jaipar root... How -"

"Right as always, smart guy!" Bill announced, a smirk audible in his voice. He paused to take a sip from his own cup before he continued. "Sure brings back memories, doesn't it? And the taste is _hellishly_ divine!"

Ford couldn't understand. "How..." He was forced to raise his bemused gaze back at Bill and was met with a meaningful glint in his eye. "How did you know? How could you possibly know?"

Bill laughed. "Ha! The real question is, how could I not? _Why_ would I not? Your lack of faith upsets me, Sixer."

"I still don't..." Ford started, shaking his head in disbelief. Shifting his teacup to his right hand, Bill raised his left one and, with a snap of his fingers, conjured up the interdimensional chess board Ford could remember from their first meeting to float above the coffee table. The vivid memory caused a lump to form in his throat.

Bill nonchalantly started the game with a move that quite certainly broke more interdimensional chess guidelines than it followed. "Look here, old friend, I see _everything_. Do you really think I wouldn't keep tabs on you wherever you went? I mean, sure, our breakup -" he chuckled, "- wasn't of the prettiest kind, no argument there, but that doesn't change the fact that you're still mine." The cup in Ford's hands clattered a bit. "Gotta make sure my favorite goods won't get damaged on the road, am I right?"

Ford's head was spinning. He could see images being reflected in Bill's eye, images of the peaceful dusks at the porch of his temporary hut in Dimension 55J-t, or Jaitt as the travelers called it. It was his favorite dimension, the scenery and nature bearing great resemblance to that of the Earth, only more ablaze and stirring. Being surrounded by a starry sky and the stunningly rich smell of jaipar trees that grew abundant around his hut had carved itself into his memory as some of the most serene, untroubled moments of his life. There had, however, always been a hint of melancholy mixed in, since during those moments he would let extremely rare moments of self-honesty to surface and allow himself to dwell on the only thing his inner peace was missing, making a nook of his chest feel tight with silent grief.

And all that time, Bill had been watching over him, knowing exactly how he'd felt... He couldn't keep the demon out of his head if he wanted to.

Even if he wanted to.

"Your turn, IQ", Bill jerked out, startling him back to the present. He was still so dazed that he could just stare at the board Bill was demandingly pointing at. His passiveness received him an impatient snarl and a pawn being flung towards his face. He managed to dodge it, and it flew past his chair's backrest and clattered to the corner of the room.

Despite small objects already being thrown at him, Ford still couldn't bring himself to concentrate on the game. He took an unsure breath. "Bill, I-I..." he stammered. He didn't know what to think, how to feel.

Bill didn't seem to listen. "Oh, come on", he drawled in a bored tone, using magic to haphazardly flick over the pawns on Ford's side. "Trying to set up a mood here! At least a little recognition for the effort would be much appreciated, you know. Your tea's getting cold, by the way", he commented dryly and snapped his fingers. Ford flinched a little when his teacup was set on fire in his hands.

To his surprise, he found himself holding back a slight smile; these kinds of quirks were so very typical of Bill, and they reminded him of the early stages of his fascination with the erratic dream demon. Almost shocked with his own light-hearted reaction, he willed himself to turn serious. "Bill", he said again, this time a little annoyed; he knew the fire wouldn't burn him, but he also knew it was an unneeded dramatic gesture that simply served to agitate. "Enough games. Why are you doing this? Just tell me what you want."

Bill immediately stopped what he was doing - which was turning his teacup upside down and levitating the liquid back up in swirls just as it was about to splash on the carpet, which it of course did along with the cup itself when the demon abruptly shifted his attention. The look in his eye turned almost sheepish as he tilted his head inquiringly. "Oh, Stanford", he cooed, his voice sounding a little hurt. He pressed his fingertips together under his chin and leaned on them to strenghten the impression. "You can't be serious! You still don't know? And here I thought you were smart! Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to _spell_ -" with a snap, the teapot appeared in the air again, "- _it_ -", its contents were immediately hurled into the fireplace, making a hiss, "- _out_!" which was then followed by interdimensional chess pieces being wiped off the board and scattering around the room, making a startling clamor as they bounced off the walls and furniture.

Ford was a bit taken aback by Bill's sudden frenzy, but it hadn't alarmed him nearly as much as one would expect. Knowing the childish drama queen who had once called himself his muse, this, too, was a very characteristic course of action for Bill. What did unnerve him, however, was the changed look in the demon's eye when he focused his fiery stare back to Ford. That look was something he wasn't very acquainted with yet, something he'd only learned to recognize recently, during the immeasurable time he'd spent in this room, chained up to the wall, completely at Bill's mercy... He gulped as the awareness of his situation that he'd so oddly managed to forget started to once again creep down his spine, like a trickle of icy water.

Bill floated up and drew closer, lightly seating himself on the edge of of the coffee table on Ford's side. He leaned back on the table and straightened his legs so that they were just barely brushing against Ford's. The man started a little, but didn't flinch. He couldn't turn his eyes away from the demon whose stare was now locked with his, occasionally traveling down to the collar around his neck and curling his lips into a small smile.

There was a long silence. Just as Ford began to wonder if Bill was going to spell anything out after all, the demon let out a sigh and spoke.

"What I want", he said in a low tone, "is you, Stanford. Understand? Just that. Only you, fully and entirely, with _nothing_ -" the word was emphasized with an otherworldly echo, "- binding you down. No attachments, not a single one, except for me. Got it?"

Ford couldn't answer even if he wanted to. His mouth was dry. Bill's words felt like something seeping through his skin, making him feel feverish all over. He understood... He understood, and the implications dazed him.

Bill leaned forward. The flickering light of the fireplace danced on his face, creating contrasts and accentuating his smooth features, making his eye gleam and look more ablaze than ever before. Ford drew breath, hypnotized by the intensity of the sight. Flames... The crackling fire reminded him of the end of the world as he knew it, the utter destruction of the town he used to call his home. And yet, he... he couldn't bring himself to care.

"And I want you to understand that you're not there", Bill's quiet yet stern voice echoed in his ears. "You are here. With me."

That's right. None of it concerned him. Ford felt light-headed. If Bill told him so, he had no reason to feel involved. And why should he? He was disillusioned. By this point, he should no longer have any bonds to this world that had let him down so many times. Even his own brother...

"You are not with them. You're here, _with me_."

It was all true, everything Bill said was true... For all his greatest achievements, his small moments of happiness and self-respect earned with nothing but relentless hard work, he had never received anything but sneer, disregard and odd looks from his twin. Protecting the kids was Stanley's duty, not Ford's. For everything he'd had to gone through, he refused to be incriminated into feeling responsible for breaking up the family. Not for the second time. Never again.

He was not at fault. He would not be blamed for this.

His heavy breathing stifled as he felt the armchair tip under an added weight. He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed Bill floating closer, just above him, now gently straddling his hips with his own. Ford froze completely at the contact and the feeling of Bill's warm breaths tickling his neck.

"You are weak", the demon whispered, lips pressed against his ear. "You're ridden with guilt and rejected, left behind on your own. I know all this", his hand lifted up to caress the trembling man's cheek, "because we were one. Even back then, all this was already consuming you." The way he nuzzled his face against Ford's was almost too affectionate. "Oh, my poor old friend, just how much it must've hurt... All these years, it's been slowly burning you up inside, even if you couldn't tell yourself. But I could, and I took it all in. I know how you feel because I've felt it too, Stanford. I feel it too. Even now."

Ford hadn't realized that he had been eagerly leaning into Bill's touch, quiet sobs escaping his throat as he spoke. He had yearned for this, this acceptance, this recognition, this warmth... for _so_ long.

There was an unreadable calmness in Bill's expression as he drew back to look at the man. In a daze, Ford watched as Bill reached under his left sleeve and slowly drew the leather glove off his hand. The sight of the glove dropping on the carpet sent a wave of heat running down Ford's chest. He gasped a little when he felt hot skin against skin, the demon's bare fingertips gently caressing his palm. His hand was led up, and he could feel slim fingers sliding across and tangling with his own... One finger on each.

Ford startled and shook as his eyes shifted from the demon's to the hands now tightly clasped together. Six fingers against... _six fingers_.

He took a deep, trembling breath as his whole body was surged by an emotion he couldn't even begin to describe, making his head spin. His breathing became shallow when Bill leaned in, so close that their foreheads were touching. Ford's eyelids were half closed as the demon's right hand reached to cup his face, lips verging on his.

"You don't need to say a word..." Bill murmured softly. "Just let me in..."

Ford's mind felt hazy. This was... Bill. Bill Cipher, wrapped up in a human form he'd traced from the dreams of his past. Perhaps it made this unreal... Perhaps this, too, was just a dream. Nothing more. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was okay to... dream this dream to the end. "Why me?" he found himself whispering. He needed to know... and at the same time he realized that no matter the answer, it would give him the liberation he was asking for. It was a place he had already reached. He just needed to know.

Quiet, breathy words were whispered against his parted lips, barely reaching his ears. He sighed, shivers running through his whole body, and let his eyelids fall down completely as he felt Bill's lips press against his and melt into a slow, soft kiss.

It lasted for what could've been forever. Tender, almost unmoving, their lips were merely held on each other, sensing every small brushing motion the other made. The static intensity made Ford's mind go numb and sent small shocks of electricity running across his face and neck. Eventually their lips parted, and Bill drew away just enough to look into Ford's eyes. His pupil was a bit darker than before as he lifted up Ford's hand, gently folding five fingers against his palm, and held up the outermost one by the knuckle. Suddenly Ford stiffened, his heart starting to pound rapidly. Bill knew him, every part of him, his dreams, his... fantasies, everything. So he would also have to know about the abnormal sensitivity of his extra finger, and how stimulating it would -

Ford let out a sudden groan, his body squirming with shocks of pleasure as Bill dragged his tongue slowly up the side of his finger, all the way from base to tip. Eye ablaze with newly lit hunger, the demon chuckled quietly before leaning in on Ford's gasping mouth.

The earlier kiss had been enough to take Ford's breath away, but this one was far beyond the limits of his imagination. His breaths became heavy as their lips moved together, rhythmical and fickle at the same time, getting more erratic every time he felt the tip of Bill's tongue run along his lower lip. The kiss' increasing wetness made small moans form in the back of his throat. Bill smiled and deepened the movements, his tongue tentatively inviting Ford to part his lips a little further. Soon getting the reaction he was looking for, Bill tilted the man's head slightly with both hands and slid in, a low, shaky noise making Ford's mouth tingle as their tongues brushed keenly against each other. Shaking from pleasure and need, Ford pressed closer against Bill's heated body, yearning for more contact. He was suddenly forced to break out from the kiss with a loud gasp turning into a moan as he felt Bill roll his hips softly on his.

Bill snickered at the sight of him throwing his head back and thrusting his hips upwards desperately for his turn. He shifted teasingly a little further from Ford's lap and led the man's finger to his lips again. Another suppressed groan clogged Ford's throat when he felt small, cattish licks all over his fingertip, followed by a series of featherweight kisses all the way down to the finger's base. Moving back to the tip and letting his lower lip brush lightly against the underside of the digit, Bill locked his eye with Ford's wavering gaze and parted his lips with a seducingly slow motion. And when his sensitive finger was slowly taken into Bill's hot and slick mouth, Ford thought he was going to lose his mind. 

His other hand gripped on the armrest almost convulsively as Bill started moving his mouth up and down, sucking on the finger slightly every time he reached the tip. When he pressed his eyes shut to stop the whimpering noises trying to escape his throat, the maddening sensation loosened instantly. 

"Look at me, Stanford", Bill's voice exhaled, slightly breathless. "Keep your eyes on me." 

Panting fervently, Ford swallowed down the excessive saliva forming in his mouth and turned his eyes back to Bill, who responded with an approving smile. He moved closer to Ford again and, letting out a low, breathy noise, continued what he had been doing, adding to the sensation by lapping his tongue around the finger in uneven, asymmetrical motions. Another roll of his hips, now with a little more pressure, made Ford shudder violently and quiver under his weight. This time Bill didn't try to stop him from responding, and the friction between their bodies slowly rocking in sync made his vision sway and grow black from the edges. He felt like he was going to lose consciousness as their pace gradually picked up, and he leant his forehead on Bill's shoulder, muffling his moans into the fabric of his coat. His body was already convulsing with uncontrollable waves of pleasure when Bill finally let go of his finger; the demon's hands gripped the back of his hair, and as Ford reached his climax with a shout of ecstasy, Bill's gleaming eye was all he knew.

Ford had only had one sexual fling in his past, with a woman he didn't even know. It hadn't left much of an impression, and what took over him now made him question everything he thought he knew about physical pleasure. His body spasmed and burned, toes curling and fingernails digging into Bill's arms, and he couldn't stop the small cries still escaping from his mouth. When he thought the sensations were finally beginning to settle down, Bill caught his quivering lips into an airy kiss accompanied by a light thrust of his hips, making it all rush back just as powerful. Squirming and moaning through the kiss, Ford felt like both his mind and body would shatter completely if this went on much longer.

Eventually the waves subsided and, after a moment of tranquil relief, were replaced by violent sobs that shook his entire body. Overpowered with a limp feeling of weakness, exhaustion and an undescribable mixture of various other emotions, Ford buried his face in the crook of Bill's neck and cried like he hadn't done since he was a young boy. 

The way Bill held him while slowly caressing his hair wasn't so much gentle as it was possessive and triumphant; but the sense of threat was gone, and right now, it made Ford feel the safest in the whole world. He gradually calmed down, inhaling deeply the soothing gingery scent of the demon's skin that was now damp from his tears. Crying and satisfaction had left his body almost as heated as Bill's, and as he leaned into his capturer's touch, he felt a tinge of a different kind of warmth, one that reminded him of the unity and the deep, intimate bond with Bill during the times of being possessed. The warmth his whole being longed for... that sense of completion.

The collar around his neck was gone.

He drew in a shaky breath when Bill gently pressed their foreheads together. "Tell me what you want", the demon said quietly, mirroring Ford's own words from before.

"I want you", Ford whispered back, still breathless. "I want to travel the multiverse with you. Free."

He could feel a a soft breath on his face as Bill smirked. "Sounds like a plan. But first, how about a game of interdimensional chess? And a cup of tea, perhaps."

"That.. that would be nice." Ford smiled weakly at the feeling of their matching fingers intertwining again. Warmth surrounded him as Bill leaned in to speak softly into his ear.

"I need to tell you something."

"...Yes, Bill?"

The hand gripped his. "I can't form a human body. Not without you."

It took Ford a moment to understand what he meant. And when the realization hit him, he couldn't help but let out a quiet, broken laugh, tears of relief and bliss flowing down his face.

It was always going to end up like this.

 _Until the end of time_.


	4. Epilogue: Completion

Flames danced around them as they danced. 

Wildly, rejoicing like children. Slowly, tangled into each other, bodies pressed close together.

The world burned.

Ford's eyes were damp as he could smell the jaipar trees around his Jaitt hut, hear the peaceful silence. He laughed.

Bill laughed.

A triangular shape was watching over the world as it burned, colored in deep red and shadows. The eye glew with triumph.

Bill's eye was glowing.

Their fingertips joined, their foreheads touched lightly as their minds and bodies melted into one another with a graceful twirl. Breaths and tearful smiles became complete.

They were one.

All is well now.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To truly catch the atmosphere of the epilogue, I strongly recommend to listen to All Is Well (It's Only Blood) by Radical Face. You can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJGdASKyGzU
> 
> ....aaaand that's it! I just finished my first fanfic ever and I feel kind of woozy. This has opened a completely new chapter in my life and I'm happy to say that it's one I'm going to be dwelling on for a while. :)
> 
> Okay, so the last chapter and the epilogue got pretty dark in an oddly fluffy way. Which is fine, because that's exactly my kind of fluff. I'm not going to apologize.
> 
> The series finale was one heck of a feelride that I practically needed a full week to recover from, so that caused a bit of a delay in the update, sorry about that. I felt kinda horrible writing the relationship of Ford and Stan from the completely opposite viewpoint of what the finale delivered. One could say this fic was meant to explore the flipside of Ford's personality and served as a speculative essay on what could've happened if he never truly came around to forgive Stanley. 
> 
> Just for clarification, my two Bill headcanons included in this work was that 1. even when he's drunk, he can control his level of inebriation at will, and 2. he doesn't really feel sexual desire and thus his human body doesn't function the way one would expect it to, but making the other party submit and lose control gives him an intellectual thrill and satisfaction that entirely makes up for the physical arousal.
> 
> Okay, I guess that's it for this fic. Thanks so much for reading! It's been a fun trip.
> 
> Edit: Just a reminder that there are now two additions to this fic: Chains (Re)imagined, a retelling of the fic that reveals the gritty truth behind the events depicted, and Chains (Re)bound, a sequel with an emphasis on philosophical discussion that sheds some light on what actually happened in the epilogue. You can find them here:
> 
>  
> 
> [Re(imagined)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6589600)  
> [Re(bound)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7761784)


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